.... where family is the source of humor!

Grandpa Jack by Laura Wynkoop

Many of us have a relative we remember as One Of A Kind - but, at the same time, we wouldn't have that person any other way but delightfully, and lovingly, unique. Laura penned and submitted a short essay, about one of her grandparents, that combined in a nice touch of sentimental reflections and humor.

"Look! There's Jupiter!" Grandpa Jack said.

I was eleven, camping with my extended family, staring out at the dark sky from behind thick glasses. Earlier I'd told Grandpa Jack I couldn't see the satellite he'd pointed out, and he'd insisted on helping me find it, a process that took too long and left me completely tired of stargazing. I found Jupiter hoping that the ordeal would end soon.

Jupiter was disappointing anyway. It looked just like a star maybe a bit bigger. "Nice Grandpa," I said, trying to sound enthused.

I tried not to be grumpy with my grandfather, but sometimes grumpiness just spews out of you. I was already upset because he'd made us turn off the radio during the trip up, shouting, "Turn off that communist music!" Or perhaps this grumpiness was the symptom of something bigger. He had decided lately to test my knowledge between visits. For example this camping trip I was supposed to have come back to Grandpa knowing the definitions of opalescence, incandescence, and translucence. I remember all these words only because I still don't really know the definitions, except that they all have something to do with light, and translucence is just a fancy way of saying semi-transparent.

I often wondered why my grandfather had to be stranger than everyone else's. His three great loves in life were alien abductions, government conspiracies, and telling everyone about both. Granted, my only way of knowing whether these were the normal interests of grandfathers was by using my mother's father, Grandpa Charlie as a control. He couldn't care less about aliens and conspiracies. I'm fairly certain he's a relatively typical example of grandfatherly behavior.

Grandpa Jack, however, is a veritable warehouse of strange and useless information. Most of the time I enjoyed the stories of his childhood in Lincoln, Nebraska, or tales of my dad, aunt, and uncles when they were kids, or his adventures in the army. But I wasn't too thrilled about having some stories told front of my friends. My best friend still loves the tale of a day at the state fair and a word I probably should not have known at age four that together earned me the nickname Lorla the Roarer.

"Do you know about the city on the dark side of the moon?" Grandpa Jack is fond of asking complete strangers. Sometimes he'll talk about the anti-gravity machine our government is supposed to have built and is hiding from us, the common people. Ask him about the aliens and he'll tell you they provided all our technology.

Pre Y2K he'd said, "In the year 2000, the government is going to implant microchips in all of our brains and program us to give up our second amendment rights."

If I'd been any savvier as a kid, I would have asked why the government would go through all the trouble of implanting a microchip in every American's brain and only order us to give up our firearms. I'd be imitating Grandpa Jack perfectly if I closed this paragraph by saying; "Luckily, these microchips were never implanted, or were they?"

Predictably, Grandpa Jack's paranoia grew the closer we got to Y2K. He joined some strange group where he studied survival techniques. At least that's what he said he was learning. Later I found out that these so-called survival classes included such subjects as driving a car down a deserted highway at high speeds, and self-defense classes where old men cajoled themselves into fighting other old men. This group also made plans to start a survival camp somewhere out in the tulliweeds of eastern Washington. Grandpa was enthusiastic in trying to convince us all to accompany him. Dad said there was no way we were going to go. I was grateful.

And the whole family, Grandma especially, was relieved when Grandpa Jack didn't leave us for his scary friends. But instead of celebrating with the rest of the population New Years Eve 2000, Grandpa holed up in his basement with a supply of water, non-perishable food, and a rifle. He warned us not to come running to him when total anarchy broke out and the world ended.

I wonder now whether he really would have turned us away from the shelter and stockpiled goods his basement would have provided. I don't think he would have. Family is important to Grandpa Jack. After all, he did invite us all to go to that scary camp with him.

Grandpa's weirdness has toned down in recent years. Maybe it was the disappointment of Y2K that did it. His new interests, ham radios and avoiding sugar for health reasons are innocuous and should be encouraged by his entire family. I'm choosing to ignore the fact that he sends out his radio transmissions hoping to get a reply from the aliens, of course.

Last August, Grandpa was visiting my home, celebrating my brother Michael's 16th birthday. I remember quite clearly when Michael and I caught Grandpa Jack sneakily inhaling a piece of cake despite his vows never to eat sugar again, and insisting our little sister accept a newsletter narrating various local UFO sightings, and abductees' confessions. He slipped the two of us twenty dollar bills and asked us not to tell Grandma.

He also found time to try and point out Jupiter as he and my grandmother were leaving. I still couldn't see anything. Some things never change.

And I hope Grandpa Jack never does, except for the asking of embarrassing questions that make strangers think he's crazy. My grandfather may not be normal, but except for that last thing, I wouldn't want him any different.

Humorous Book Recommendations:             [ view all ]
Naked
[David Sedaris; 224 pages]
My husband and I look forward to listening to David Sedaris on NPR as his stories always have us laughing. Living with OCD, his mother's death, and realizing and accepting his homosexuality are amongst life's trying situations but he recounts about those with dignity and unique humorous insight.

Cough and sneezes spread diseases.
-- 1942 UK wartime health slogan

Humor Is Relative thanks Cay Dickson, from the Houston Chronicle, for the compliment!

You may give gifts without caring -- but you can't care without giving.
-- Frank A. Clark

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-- Sophia Loren Women And Beauty

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They do certainly give very strange and new-fangled names to diseases.
-- Plato [c. 427 BC - 347 BC]